A disciplined plea for peace – and quiet – from composer Arvo Pärt : Misleading Cadence : NPR

The brand new album of music by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt is a heat blanket of consolation in troubled occasions.

Luciano Rossetti/ECM Data

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Luciano Rossetti/ECM Data

The brand new album of music by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt is a heat blanket of consolation in troubled occasions.

Luciano Rossetti/ECM Data

The brand new album of music by Arvo Pärt, Tractus, appears to place an arm round you and whisper, “In troubled occasions, music can assist.” Recognized for his serene, slow-moving music, the 88-year-old Estonian composer has attracted a legion of followers far past classical borderlines who love his chilled-out sound, together with Björk, Michael Stipe and Keanu Reeves.

The low-pitched drones, pinging bells and blossoming voices that populate the sacred choral and instrumental works on Tractus are likely to decrease my blood strain. The music permits room to breathe deeply.

Pärt routinely will get the nod as being essentially the most carried out residing composer. And in our ever violent, confounding world, we want his music now greater than ever.

The album opener, Littlemore Tractus, with textual content from a nineteenth century theologian, is a prayer for assist and peace on the finish of a frenzied day — or maybe on the finish of life itself. Its light, timeless vibe units the tone for a complete album of comforting music. Non secular or not, you may really feel the consequences. Within the seventh of the Better Antiphons, slowly pulsing strings envelope you want a heat blanket.


Pärt keenly understands that much less is commonly extra. In 2014, he informed me that silence is like fertile soil, awaiting our artistic acts, our seeds. However we should acknowledge its energy. “Silence have to be approached with a sense of awe,” he cautioned. You get that sense of awe in a brief however spacious piece like Sequentia, music initially composed for a theatre collaboration with stage director Robert Wilson. Opening with a tinkling bell and mere slivers of strings, the piece respires unhurriedly, pausing incessantly to drink within the silences.

In the midst of Tractus lies a potent parable. L’abbé Agathon, for soprano and string orchestra, tells the traditional story of the 4th century abbot Agathon, of Egypt, who carries an angel disguised as a leper on his again into city. Wheezy strings with a lumbering stride propel the narrative as soprano Maria Listra adroitly delivers each side of the dialog. On the finish, her notes rise dramatically into the stratosphere on the phrase “For the leper was an angel of the lord, come to check him.” The message is obvious: We should assist these in want. Pärt’s music, in its personal means, does the identical factor.

Most of Tractus is tranquil and pleasing to the ear, however contradictions abound, notably within the piece titled These Phrases … wherein there are none. This purely instrumental work is impressed by a textual content, a prayer for stability. And but the music sounds precarious, as a bass drum kilos and dissonant strings thunder like a pipe organ. In Cantique des degres, with its promise of safety, based mostly on Psalm 121, Pärt’s music lifts boldly into the sky, backed by a hovering refrain and brass fanfares.

Conductor Tõnu Kaljuste leads these tailored performances with the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir and the Tallin Chamber Orchestra, the identical forces he is gathered for Pärt’s music over three a long time. He chooses to shut the album with music that appears like a lullaby – a lyrical, light plea for the fundamentals: bread for our desk, security, and the power to forgive and be forgiven.


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